


Howl

by Todesengel



Category: Voltron: Lion Voltron
Genre: Bestiality, M/M, POV First Person, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-29
Updated: 2001-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:52:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Todesengel/pseuds/Todesengel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a full moon tonight</p>
            </blockquote>





	Howl

Night brightened by palelightskyball that pulls bitterwater and lifewater as it runs through velvet sky. Not that light is needed. Scent is strong enough. Warmbloodscent. Tingles the nose. Hunger. Surge of muscles. Four feet pound soft motherearth. Cold air. Nice on heated skin. Tongue lolls. Flash of white. Taste the fear. Sharp spike of delicious fright. More speed, until prey is caught, trapped in jaws. Bones crunch. Warmblood slinking down throat, in satinsmooth wonderful taste, slips out and coats jaws. Thick fur in mouth. Spit it out. Meat steams in cold air. Delicious. Howl out success to a pack that doesn’t understand.

Crackling of leaves. Who disturbs the feast? Low growl, warn them off. Approached from down wind, scent masked--smart, cunning. A battle with this invader? Yes. The energy demands release.

But no. It is just Mate. HE arrives, panting, heated. So slow on two legs. Rear back, place forepaws on Mate’s shoulders, stare into pale eyes. No fear. Good. Perhaps this night HE will be Changed too. Yes. A pack is needed. Questioning whine.

“No.”

All right. Back down, more comfortable. Mate kneels. Fingers feel good. Reach the itching spots. HE reeks of lust. Tongue lolls again, licks bitterlifewater from the small muzzle. How can anything be properly scented from so small a thing?

Secondskin is shed. Unnerving. How can flesh be put on and off? Mate is on fours, pale in the palelightskyball. HE is almost overripe in heat. Lust rises. Yes, a release. The release.

Dominance. Sharp claws draw out warmblood. Lick it off, show pain was not intended. Mate makes weak noises. Soft noises. Wet noises. Release. Mate groans, releases as well.

Mate turn backs, eye to eye, bares teeth. A challenge? No. The name for this teeth-baring comes. In twolegs it is...smile. The change again. Fur crackles as the blue energy passes through flesh and bone and brain until, finally, I am.

And I am ashamed.

“Keith...” My voice is tinged with my guilt, my almost overwhelming sorrow at what I might have made him. My humiliation at the primal urges that had dominated me only moments before brings a blush of deepest shame to my pale flesh. The blood of my kill--of Keith, of my love--is a rank sourness in my mouth, a foul tang of remembrance of something that I wish I was not.

He smiles at me, so forgiving, so loving and I don’t deserve him. I am not worthy of him. “It’s okay. I understand.”

No he doesn’t. Not really. I touch the shallow scratches on his back and sides. To think that it was my claws that did that. To think that I caused him pain.

To think that, in my most primal state, I wish he was like me. “Keith, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay! Really.” He smiles again and touches my face, pulls me in for a kiss. “I love you. All of you. Even the beast.”

I smile against his sweat chilled skin, kiss him hard. I wish I could nip at his neck, stimulate those sensitive nerve endings that he has at that little dip between the collar bones. But I dare not, for I would not want to infect him with my disease. “Oh Keith. What did I do to deserve you?”

He laughs and pulls me down onto the soft earth, to lie in the fallen leaves with him and keep each other warm through the chill night. He takes me to ecstasy and beyond, makes me forget what I become. And it is for this that he is my God.

More, though, he touches me deep within my soul, brings out all the best parts that make up man. He makes me feel loved for me, for being what I am and nothing more. And it is for this that I love him.

In the morning, we make our way back, him clad in that damn uniform, me buck naked in all my pale, unsightly glory. We stop at where I changed first, and I pull on my discarded clothes. Then it’s back to the castle, and we’re through picking the leaves from each other’s hair and scrubbing the dirt from each other’s faces when we meet the others at breakfast, yawning and rubbing red eyes and holding their heads in the pain of the next day. Even with my blunted nose I smell the rankness of alcohol on them.

“Hey guys.” Lance stretches and yawns--apparently he hasn’t even gone to bed. “Man, you missed a great party. Still, can’t say that I’m not grateful for you guys sacrificing your party time to go on patrol.”

“Yeah.” Pidge is squinting. The little guy must’ve pinched some of the alcohol they were serving as it came from the kitchens. “But man, what a party! The whole village was there. For a people who have no idea what Halloween is, they sure had some great costumes.”

Lance is looking at us suspiciously. Does he suspect what went on last night? Can he smell the sex that radiates off of us?

“Say, did you guys see any wolves last night?”

“What wolves?” Allura is finally drawn into the conversation. A good thing too, since she looked like she was about to fall face first into her food.

“The wolves that were howling last night. Didn’t you hear them, Allura? They sounded like they were right next to the castle; man, I get shivers just remembering it.” He shudders to demonstrate.

Allura looks at Lance strangely. “Arus doesn’t _have_ wolves, Lance. Whatever you heard last night, it must have been your imagination.”

Lance stares at her hard for a long moment, then shrugs. “Yeah. You’re probably right.” He turns his attention back to the meal before him.

Keith and I share a secret smile, and beneath the table his hand caresses mine.


End file.
